


kiwi

by slexenskee (Sambomaster)



Series: affelaye series [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fem!Harry, Pregnancy, crawlersout!au, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sambomaster/pseuds/slexenskee
Summary: “I’m having your baby,” she says. “Not that it’s any of your business.”fem!Harry/Gellert Grindelwald, crawlersout!AU, don't take this too seriously lol / super late crosspost from ffnet





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Try to write crawlersout, and this is what happens instead. Very AU and unrelated to the main story.
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> I’m not even a Harry Styles fan! I don’t know how this happened! But that line was just too good I couldn’t handle it clearly. So here’s a oneshot of me listening to Kiwi.
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_“I’m having your baby,” she says. “Not that it’s any of your business.”_

&&

 

He obviously cannot let her get away with having the last word like _that_. Harry tended to be petty whenever they fought; that girl was not above holding a grudge, that was for sure. She always had to have the last word, and if he didn’t come groveling back to her, as ( _manipulatively_ ) apologetic as they come, she’d refuse him on general principle. Harry had to win every argument they had; he’d sort of come to accept it as a part of their relationship. He preferred her moody and mean as opposed to just not having her there at all.

 

This was different though.

 

As far as he was concerned, this argument was _not_ over, and she would _not_ be getting the last word. Not this time.

 

He had no idea where she went when she did her ‘disappear off the face of the earth’ vanishing act, but no matter. That was definitely not going to deter him this time.

 

Regardless of his determination to settle the matter, it was still going to be all but impossible to find her. Harry was not limited to the wizarding world— this would be so much easier if she was. But no, the girl was perfectly capable, and perfectly content, to live lost in the anonymity of the Muggle world.

 

He seethed silently as he stared up at the innocuous, handsome row home settled into a picturesque street of brownstones and brick houses.

 

Of course it was empty.

 

The wards were still up, of course, but easily dismantled. Especially since he’d been inside before and had the opportunity to study their fascinating complexity. At any rate the wards were still up, but there was no one inside to protect. The snake, the boy, and the girl were all gone, leaving nothing but a tidy house full of everything they could live without. This was especially infuriating; they were all gone. The boy was the easiest way to track her down, but during summer break he was not confined to his school, leaving Gellert with no leads and a hell of a lot of frustration. And Harry was good, careful. She never left a money trail, never even took money out of a Gringotts branch. He has no idea where she gets her funds, since apparently it’s not from the Potter family, but he knows for a fact she has no shortage of it.

 

He’d tracked her down before, during a summer not unlike this one.

 

But it wasn’t looking like those same tricks could be used twice. Scrying compass, crystal ball, even the talents of a full blown Seer— none of them were working. He even offered to go through with a blood ritual, but Amir merely shook his head. _She is in a place you cannot follow._ As if that wasn’t disconcerting, and irritating, enough. Where was that, exactly? There was one chilling thought that came to mind, but that was impossible. Harry regularly defied death; there was no way she could be there.

 

But as time passes, he wonders if that might truly be the case.

 

He is a man possessed, but his efforts prove fruitless. She drives him crazy (that’s really nothing new). But he hasn’t given up, not in the slightest.

 

This is one battle with her refuses to lose.

 

She’s clearly underestimating him, because come hell or high water Dark Lords _do not_ lose.

 

&&

 

So Harry’s Gryffindor side wins in the end, as it always (unfortunately) does.

 

She drags her feet on it but eventually returns to the past: the scrying compass spins to life.

 

(At least the Slytherin side was around for the shopping spree. She always shops better as a Slytherin.)

 

Predictably, he finds her in downtown Manhattan, enjoying a _cafe au lait_ with an army of shopping bags at her feet.

 

“So I suppose we’ll need to plan a wedding, then.”

 

Harry turns to him. She briefly pulls down her spectacular sunglasses to level him with a deeply unimpressed look. Then she adjusts them back on her nose, and looks away with a sniff.

 

“Absolutely not.” Harry deadpans, flatly.

 

He looks at her, surprised. “You don’t want to get married?”

 

“God, no.” She says, with such finality his surprise turns to downright shock.

 

Harry has always been rather odd when it comes to these matters. She was quite an unusual woman. Impressively independent— to a fault, really— and completely indifferent to what society thought of her. She also never gave any indication of ever finding— or wanting— a husband, and seemed disinterested at the thought of having children, even of her own. She swore up and down that Tom was not her ‘child’ and she would never think of him as such, so apparently he doesn’t count.

 

Even now she didn’t seem ecstatic at all at the idea of a child, and she just flat out rejected the idea of ever having a husband. As if that wasn’t absolute madness. Women didn’t… they didn’t _have_ children out of wedlock. Did Harry not know what people would think of her?

 

No, surely she knows just what society thinks of single mothers.

 

To his complete lack of surprise, he finds she just doesn’t care. Harry was one of those people that could take on the world all by herself, and you could either join her or stand with the masses and watch with envy and awe.

 

Madness. Pure, absolute madness.

 

He shakes his head with something like wonder. “You drive me crazy, do you know that?”

 

Harry merely leans back in her chair, examining her nail beds. Its clearly just a pretense, because they are immaculate, as always. “If you don’t like it, you know where the door is,” she points out, breezily.

 

Because apparently Harry doesn’t care about angering the most feared Dark Lord of their time. A Dark Lord who is thoroughly pissed off after having spent days trying to find her only to lead himself in circles of frustration. But none of this even phases her, because she certainly doesn’t seem to care about provoking the dangerous and already irritated dark wizard in front of her, and on a related not, she doesn’t seem to care about him, _at all._

 

But then she smirks. “Or maybe you’re just into that?” Her gaze flicks up to him from beneath her sunglasses.

 

Clearly he is into that, because she drives him mad and that’s never deterred him before. And it certainly isn’t now. Everything about her is exceptionally irritating, and in equal parts bewildering and fascinating.

 

“I must’ve gone round the bend, because apparently I am.” He admits, wryly.

 

Harry looks at him curiously, perhaps in surprise over the admittance. “Oh, you admit it?”

 

“You are the most insensible person I’ve ever met,” he announces, instead of answering. _And I love you anyway._

 

He really does; he loves everything about her. The way she does what she wants, ignores everyone who tells her different and still somehow manages to earn their awe and respect. The way she hates to lose. She’s stubborn and independent and the most vexating person he’s ever met. She’s perfect.

 

“But I hope you don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.” He adds; it is offhand but full of promise.

 

She shakes her head with a true smile. “Oh, Gellert. You always make things so difficult.”

 

“So is that a no?”

 

Harry frowns, narrowing her eyes. “I already said no.” She reminds him.

 

He grins roguishly, sauntering up to where she’s sitting, one leg crossed over the other, cup in one hand and a supremely cavalier look of disinterest beneath her sunglasses. She looks as polished and fashionable as usual. If she’s showing already, the bump is well covered by her stylish trench coat.

 

“Yes, you did.” He leans down, his smile almost predatory as he towers over her. “You said no to a wedding, and you said no to marriage, but you haven’t said no to _me._ ”

 

Harry is not intimidated in the least. She meets his gaze steadily.

 

“No,” She agrees, coolly. “I suppose I haven’t.”

 

It’s such an unconditionally _Harry_ thing to say, it simultaneously makes him feel fond, but also makes him want to tear out all his hair. That’s as close to a surrender as he’s ever going to get.

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's more kiwi, because I was trying to write crawlersout but wasn't getting anywhere, and then thought maybe if I let my muse run with this it might bring me back to crawlersout? didn't happen.

He wonders, sometimes, what exactly it is that he’s doing here. 

 

He’s never entirely sure, and that used to be part of the allure. What Harry felt for him was forever a mystery— in no small part because he thinks the girl herself is conflicted on the matter. If Harry doesn’t know how she feels about him, how would she be able to answer when he asks that question? At any rate, he knows she must feel  _ something,  _ she’s admitted it at least once, and he can’t imagine a girl so adept at wiping herself off the face of the earth would stick around like this if she felt nothing. She wouldn’t let him into his house, and she certainly wouldn’t have decided to keep the child. Getting rid of it was as simple as a small black potion; if she had no interest in keeping it, she could have taken a swig of rosewater and nightshade and called it a day.

 

If anything, though, he thinks that only confuses the issue. 

 

Is he here now because of her feelings for him, or because of the child? On the subject of conflicting feelings, Gellert has quite a few about her as well. He’s probably just as lost in his feelings as she is. 

 

Maybe he should start with what he  _ could  _ say with utmost certainty. 

 

He liked being here. 

 

He even liked little Tom, as bratty and mean as the teenage boy could be. Tom was a quick learner and dedicated student, and when it came to learning the Dark Arts he was quite capable of pushing aside whatever personal feelings he had for Gellert and focusing on his studies. And, for as bratty as he could be, Tom always took him seriously. He might even respect him, loathe as he would be to ever admit it aloud. 

 

He also vastly enjoyed Harry’s company. 

 

There probably wasn’t another soul on this earth as enigmatic and riveting as she was, except perhaps for Pershing. But Pershing wasn’t also a stunning young woman with sparkling eyes and a smile that could make your heart stop, so it’s no surprise he favored her company even over the elusive Headmaster. She always insisted she was a very straightforward girl, and he could see that to an extent. She never had any qualms in being blunt or harshly candid— especially when it came to him— and if she was upset or mad at him she made no show of hiding it. He appreciated the lack of passive aggressiveness he was used to in most females. He appreciated a lot about her, really. She was just… so curious. If he was being honest, he could not imagine anyone else being the mother of his child.

 

And on that subject, he could at least say with the utmost certainty that he had no intentions of abandoning them.

 

He wanted to do right by her, even though she didn’t seem to care whether he did or not.

 

He’d spent months trying to change her mind on her stance on marriage during her pregnancy, in which he was adamantly refused each time. Harry wasn’t interested in getting married. She didn’t care about his financial stability, his estate, his family name. He knew she wanted him around, but he also knew she was fully prepared, and capable, of handling the situation on her own. She didn’t even care that this child would be a bastard, which was beyond sacrilegious. Everyone he knew would be positively scandalized to hear he was siring a bastard child with a woman with no real pedigree to speak of. Not that he actually cared what people thought of him. There were only ever two— perhaps three, if he considered Pershing— people whom he held in high enough regard to consider their opinions. Harry was one of them. As for Albus… he had no idea what the man would say to this. He doesn’t want to imagine it, really. 

 

Gellert sighs, running a weary hand through his hair in a gesture he would never allow anyone else to see. But in the privacy of this nursery, his conflicting thoughts and exhaustion were plain to see. 

 

He doesn’t want to think about Albus right now.

 

Instead he peers down into the crib, where a baby with soft, winter wheat curls sleeps soundly through the afternoon. He’s a cherub of a thing, with his big rosy cheeks, button nose and swirling, lemon colored hair. He’s a smiley little thing too, with a propensity for cooing and giggling as opposed to screaming and crying. He does cry on occasion, but a googly-eyed look from Spot is usually enough to quell his tears. Gellert still has a difficult time believing he exists, despite his existence here, right now in the room. He’s just so… perfect. 

 

He reaches down with some hesitation, forever fearful that he’ll somehow hurt the boy with his mere presence alone. He’s never been in the presence of something so pure. The child is so sweet and innocent; Gellert has never even remotely regretted his descent into the Dark Arts, but he has never felt as corrupted as he does when he sets eyes on the infant. 

 

_ “How long do you plan to sleep,  _ _ bärchen _ _?”  _ He murmurs, trailing his fingers through cornsilk hair. 

 

He might have a lot of difficult and convoluted feelings in a lot of aspects of this relationship, but his love for Leon is not one of them. 

 

It’s just him and Leon today, and Leon has found it fit to sleep through the majority of it.

 

It’s the first time Harry’s left him completely alone with the boy; usually the domineering pet snake is around, or the equally domineering older brother if Harry is away. But Tom is away at school and Spot is outside ostensibly to ‘get some exercise’, leaving Gellert and Leon to themselves. Harry almost always takes the baby to work  _ (wherever work is, exactly. He’s not entirely sure since it’s one of the many things Harry always gets out of answering) _ now that she’s off her maternity leave, and for most of the summer Tom has been around to coddle and play with the infant and give Gellert mean looks whenever he gets too close. However, for whatever reason, Harry couldn’t take Leon today, and so Gellert is alone with the child. It’s marginally terrifying, if he’s being honest. What if he hurts him somehow? The last time he’d spent any duration of time solely in the company of a child had been when Tom was ten, and he’d somehow managed to get him possessed by a god. 

 

Yet the morning passed without incident, and now it is the early afternoon and Leon is still in good health.

 

That might be because Leon hasn’t been awake for most of it. 

 

He wonders how long babies are supposed to sleep. Is this normal? Or too much? And if it’s too much, what does that mean? Is he sick?

 

He’s probably overthinking it, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying anyhow. 

 

Aside from his needless worrying, taking care of Leon has been pretty straightforward. Feed him his bottle, burp him, lull him to sleep, change his diaper if it needs changing. If he’s awake, there is an endless array of toys he can use to entertain him. 

 

_ “If only dealing with your mother was that straightforward,”  _ he grouses to the sleeping infant. 

 

The baby makes a sleepy noise at that, wriggling around and scrunching up his nose. He wonders if the German woke the boy up; he seems to recognize and associate the language with Gellert, in the same way he recognizes and associates parseltongue with Spot and Tom. 

 

His little mouth opens up in a wide yawn as his tiny fists flail in the air. Then he gives an unhappy whine, as if waking up was the worst thing in the world. Gellert could commiserate with that. 

 

He slips his arms around the infant, feeling a vague spark of trepidation even though he’s done this hundreds of times now. He manages to lift Leon out of his crib without doing irreparable damage to him, and his whining stops once he’s held up against something warm. He thinks Leon might just be— finally— waking up, but when he turns to look at the boy he sees he’s fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

 

Gellert sighs. There’s no helping it then. 

 

He retires to a nearby rocking chair, picking up the nearest book he can find, laying atop the bookshelf next to a tower of wooden blocks. He turns it over to read the title.

 

_ Tales of Beedle the Bard.  _

 

He snorts aloud. How positively ironic. 

 

He knows the stories inside out, but he opens it up nonetheless. It settles on a vibrant illustration of three brothers trying to cross a violent river. He flips to the next page. Death hands out the wand, then the stone, and finally, the cloak.

 

_ “Your mother has this, somewhere,”  _ he says to the sleeping baby, quiet enough not to wake him.  _ “She refuses to admit to it and won’t tell me where it is, but I know she has it.”  _

 

_ “She might even have the stone, too.”  _ He adds, frowning. That wouldn’t make any sense though. Then again, since when did anything about Harry make sense? He would have thought she had the wand as well, if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was still in his pocket. 

 

He sighs and closes the book, tossing it into a pile of toys on the floor where he doesn’t have to look at it. It just serves to remind him of yet another thing Harry won’t tell him about. And, quite frankly, he’s trying not to think about such things. It is the heart of all his tangled thoughts on the girl, all these secrets. He has his own, of course, but she just has so many  _ more.  _ Anyway, she has no intention of telling him, so he either needs to walk away or make his peace with it. As he refuses to do the former, he’s stuck muddling his way through the latter. 

 

In some ways, he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the secrets. It’s the  _ fear. _

 

He doesn’t really know anything about her, where she comes from, where she grew up, who her parents were, or even if she’s really actually a Potter. It’s actually one of the few things he and Tom begrudgingly share, this complete and utter lack of information on the girl who’s so important to them. Except, Harry  _ loves  _ Tom, more than anything in the world with the exception of Leon. Harry would never even think to leave Tom. The bond between the two of them is unshakable, to the point it almost seems prophetic. And then of course there is the bond of mother and child she shares with Leon. And Gellert? Well, he has no idea where they stand, or what bond they have to speak of. He’s the father of her child, but Harry doesn’t have to rely on him for anything. If she really wanted, she could pack up and leave tomorrow without leaving a trace behind. 

 

She’s already done it once. 

 

He remembers their explosive fight the day she’d offhandedly mentioned she was pregnant. He can’t even remember what they were fighting about anymore; they didn’t do it all that often, but they did tend to butt heads and disagree with each other more often than not. This had been much more than that though, so he can only assume they must have been arguing over one of her many secrets again. At any rate, she’d tossed that out there in a cold fury and then completely disappeared. For  _ weeks.  _

 

He’s still not entirely sure how they managed to reconcile after that, but he thinks Leon had a great deal to do with it.

 

Harry agreed not to leave again, and he agreed not to ask her personal questions she didn’t want to answer. And, well, this truce of theirs was working, but it hasn’t actually solved any of their issues or made any progress in definitively defining their relationship.

 

At least if they were married he would have a bond to her, in the same way Tom and Leon did. And he’d actually have a name for their relationship: marriage. 

 

_ “You said no to a wedding, and you said no to marriage— but you haven’t said no to  _ me _.” _

 

But wasn’t saying no to marriage, in some way, also saying no to him? Or rather, to a  _ commitment  _ with him? 

 

He would have thought having a child together would be enough commitment. He was wrong. 

 

The distant sounds of the front door opening and closing stirs him out of his thoughts. There’s the prim clicking of Harry’s shoes on the wooden floor, and then silence as she inevitably takes them off as soon as she possibly can. A few more minutes, and then the creak of the stairs. 

 

Finally she pokes her head in, long vermillion curls swooping over her shoulder. “Oh! He’s still sleeping?”

 

“He has yet to wake up for more than a half hour or two.” Gellert answers drily.

 

Harry drops her bag at the door, tiptoeing into the room. She leans down to get a closer look at Leon, kissing his nose. “My sleepy little lion, hm?” 

 

He watches her closely. “You’re home early,” he observes, neutrally. Had she come home early because she was worried over leaving him alone with Leon for too long?

 

But Harry just makes a vague noise of assent, tickling Leon’s cheeks. “It wasn’t a full day event,” she explains, distracted. “And I didn’t have to stick around for the rest of it.”

 

“Anyway,” she segues, before he can even attempt to ask about her ‘event’, “what have you guys been up to all day?”

 

“Sleeping.” The Dark Lord responds, blandly. 

 

He wonders what his followers— or even the world at large— would do if they saw him now, a baby in a hideous tiger onesie drooling over one shoulder, a cooing redhead making baby noises at the other. 

 

“He usually wakes up around this time,” Harry comments, tickling his nose. He wrinkles it as he makes a noise of displeasure, retreating closer to Gellert. She makes a contemplative noise. “I think a bottle might do the trick.”

 

She gets back up to her feet then, returning a few minutes later with a bottle in hand. He’s a little surprised when she hands it to him— she’s normally the one to feed him since, well, she’s the one with an actual pair of breasts. But even when he’s not breastfeeding Harry usually feeds him his bottle, if only for practicalities sake. 

 

Like clockwork, Leon opens his eyes interestedly when he spies the bottle. He makes grabby hands for it, and actually has enough coordination to hold it on his own now. His bright green eyes lower in contentment as he sucks.

 

“Are you sure this isn’t going to just make him sleepy again?” He asks dubiously, as he watches those familiar eyes disappear behind a fray of blonde lashes. 

 

Harry laughs nervously. “Uh,” she hedges. “Hopefully not.”

 

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to know all this?” He teases, only slightly in jest. Harry always does seem to inherently know what to do with the baby, even as Gellert flounders around and stares at it like a little alien. 

 

Harry rolls her eyes. “Just because I read a lot online—err, I mean, in the library— doesn’t mean I actually know what I’m doing.” She points out. “Um, anyway, why don’t we take him outside for a bit? The sunshine should do him some good.”

 

She rises back to her feet, and he follows at a slower pace. “Will he be cold?” He frowns down at the suckling baby. That onesie doesn’t seem warm enough to go outside. 

 

But Harry doesn’t seem overly concerned, grabbing a blanket and a tiny knit hat and bundling him up appropriately in them. “Just keep him close to you,” she says, as she fixes the cap over his ears. To Gellert’s great exasperation, he sees the cap has little cat ears and a cat face on it. “Your body heat should be enough.”

 

It’s not  _ that  _ cold outside, so maybe his worries were a bit unfounded. All the same the leaves are changing color and there’s a nippy wind biting through the air, so he holds Leon close as the baby finishes up his bottle. True to form, the sunshine and cooler air seems to wake him up, his vibrant emerald eyes inspecting the world around him with interest. They sit on a stone bench by the sliding glass doors so Leon can watch the koi fish swim about in the pond, an activity that never ceases to entertain him. He sits the boy in his lap so he can get a better look, holding him around the middle in case he tries to reach out and grab for them.

 

_ “I see the human male is back again,”  _ A displeased voice rises from Harry’s left.

 

Leon might love the fish, but he loves the snake  _ even more.  _ He claps his hands and begins to babble excitedly when Spot comes into view, the fat lump of today’s unfortunate prey stuck in his throat and making him look even lazier than usual. 

 

_ “Yes, he is.”  _ Harry agrees, giving Spot a narrow-eyed look. 

 

_ “How much longer must this man come around?”  _ Spot complains, as he slithers over Harry’s legs to curl around her shoulders. 

 

_ “I told you, Spot. He’s going to be coming around very often.”  _ Harry replies patiently, repeating herself for what seems like the umpteenth time.  _ “And that’s not going to stop any time soon.”  _

 

Spot gives a long suffering sigh.  _ “Why must you have gone and had a hatchling with him? Isn’t one enough?”  _

 

_ “Tom isn’t really a hatchling,”  _ Harry says, with amusement. 

 

_ “A fledgling, I suppose.”  _ Spot concedes, begrudging.  _ “But this little squalling thing is a newborn hatchling. How long do human hatchlings take to grow?” _

 

His snout floats over towards Leon, just close enough for the baby to giggle happily and clasp his hand around it. For all of Spot’s complaining about having yet another human in the house, he dotes on Leon just as much as the rest of them. 

 

_ “A long time.”  _ Harry replies, smiling.

 

_ “And the human male will be there for the whole time?”  _ Spot laments with a sigh. He presses his flat snout against Leon’s tummy, making the baby giggle even louder. 

 

Harry darts an unsure gaze towards Gellert, who meets it with a raised eyebrow. 

 

_ “Um, well, I suppose so.”  _ Harry returns, unsteadily.  _ “I’m not entirely sure.” _

 

_ “Then he  _ is  _ your mate?”  _ Spot asks, confused. He’d asked before, and Harry had very adamantly told him no. And yet, they had a hatchling together, and were raising him together. Was that not the definition of a mate? 

 

Harry looks a bit nervous.  _ “Would that be a bad thing, if he was?” _

 

This is a far different tune than her usual vehement denial, so Spot rears back to stare at her directly. Leon makes a sound of dismay when the banana yellow snake moves out of grabbing distance. Harry meets the snake’s gaze evenly, biting her lip. Spot blinks lethargically. 

 

If anything, the snake looks confused.  _ “Shouldn’t you have already answered this question?” _

 

Harry clears her throat awkwardly.  _ “Ah, well…”  _ Why must Spot always be the voice of reason in this household?

 

Then the snake sighs, turning his slitted gaze in Gellert’s direction. For his part, Gellert merely holds the look with an intrigued expression. 

 

_ “I suppose you could do worse.”  _ He remarks, crabbily. Then he blinks contemplatively.  _ “He seems to adequately protect and care for your hatchling. I’ve never seen him catch any food for you, but you don’t ever seem to have a shortage of that. What else does a mate need to do, really? ” _

 

Harry supposes as far as snake’s are concerned, that’s some stellar mate material right there.  _ “That’s true.”  _ She agrees, thoughtfully. The logic might be a bit… simple, but it still makes sense. 

 

Gellert is a good father to Leon, and she’s not sure if she should find that surprising or not. It doesn’t make him any less of a Dark Lord but, well, she knows there’s more to the man than just being the Dark Lord. And he’s surprisingly good with Tom, even though Tom can be a right little stink with him from time to time. Harry is forever impressed with his level of patience. And then there’s the two of them, and whatever they have between them…

 

_ “I guess he is my mate.”  _ Harry admits, finding that it’s not so strange a thought anymore. 

 

Spot all but rolls his eyes.  _ “Humans,”  _ he scowls, as he slithers off of her. He dives into the pond, much to Leon’s delight, and near frightens the fish to death as he snaps his jaws at them. 

 

Show off, Harry thinks, not unkindly. It’s kind of sweet that he likes to play with Leon and entertain him so much, but hell if she tells him that. 

 

“What was that all about?” Gellert asks, as they both watch the enormous snake try to fit himself into the pond without getting tangled in the process. 

 

Harry hesitates, wondering what to tell him. 

 

“He was… asking about you.” She exhales after a moment, feeling a bit resigned. 

 

“Me?” The blonde man returns, surprised. “What, was he asking to finally be allowed to eat me?” Despite not speaking a common language, Spot’s opinion of Gellert was well known to the man. 

 

“Nothing like that.” Harry chuckles under her breath. Although she’s fairly sure Spot would love to try, if he thought he had any chance. “He wanted to know how much longer you’d be coming around.”

 

When she chances a glance at the man, his features have gone cold, and are impossible to read. Harry finds she can’t quite meet his stony gaze, busying herself with fixing Leon’s hat instead. 

 

“But he seemed to understand the fallacy of the question after I explained to him that we were mates.” 

 

There’s a long pause of silence. Leon blinks up at her from underneath his unruly curls, made worse by her disastrous attempts to keep the hat over his head as he tries to wiggle out of it. 

 

When she finally has to look up, Gellert’s features are still completely indiscernible. 

 

“Mates?” He repeats, slowly. 

 

Harry bites her lip nervously. “Well, yes. I mean, we spend a lot of time together, and we have a hatchling together— oh Merlin, I mean, a baby— 

 

Harry cuts herself off with an embarrassed flush as Gellert lets out a bark of laughter. “A  _ hatchling _ ?” He repeats, laughing uproariously. “Did you just call our child a  _ hatchling _ ?” 

 

Harry’s cheeks burn crimson. “You try having to explain it to a damn snake! It’s not like he understands any other concept, you know!”

 

The damage is already done though. Gellert only continues to laugh. 

 

The tall man hauls their baby up into the air so he can kiss his nose. “Are you a hatchling now, Leon? Did you come out of an egg?” 

 

Leon mimics the hissing sounds from earlier, only making everything worse. Harry groans, covering her face with her hands as Gellert only continues to laugh loudly. 

 

“Do you have a forked tongue, too? Let’s see,” He grins widely at the baby, who copies the expression with aplomb. Leon is always happy to smile at anyone, but he is positively delighted when people smile back. He gives Gellert his best, toothless gummy smile, and Gellert makes a show of inspecting his mouth. 

 

“Oh,  _ stop. _ ” Harry scowls. 

 

“No, no forked tongue that I can see.” Gellert continues, unheeded. His eyes are twinkling madly. “Ah, I suppose you’re not a hatchling after all, are you,  _ bärchen _ ?” Leon hisses in response. 

 

“How come I can’t call him a hatchling, but you’re allowed to call him a  _ little bear _ ?” Harry mutters, annoyed. 

 

Gellert laughs. “You can call him hatchling as much as you like, Harry.” 

 

“No thanks.” She smiles meanly, before leaning in closer to play peekaboo with Leon behind her hand. “I think I’ll just call him little lion— right, my little lion? You’re going to be a big and strong Gryffindor when you grow up, aren’t you?”

 

As she predicted, this causes Gellert to scowl. “If we must choose Hogwarts houses, couldn’t it be Slytherin?” 

 

“Nope!” Harry sings, as she peeks out from behind her fingers. Leon gasps with delight. “He’s  _ Leon,  _ isn’t he? The little lion. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

 

Leon babbles in what -could be considered agreement. 

 

Gellert sighs. 

 

He has nothing against lions, really, and he’d been rather touched when he realized Harry had chosen a german name for their child. But Albus had been in Gryffindor, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about his son one day following in Albus’s footsteps. 

 

“I’m just kidding, you know.” Harry says, stirring him out of his maudlin thoughts. Her expression is even a tad bit worried. “I don’t even know if he’ll be going to Hogwarts, anyway.” 

 

Harry is perceptive as ever, it seems. 

 

He doesn’t even know  _ how  _ she managed to elucidate the truth of the matter so quickly, when all he’d ever told her is that he used to have a dear  _ friend  _ in England, and that they’d had a falling out some time ago. He’d never told a soul about the ambiguous relationship he’d shared with the man, but perhaps Harry was more perceptive in matters of the heart than he was because she seemed to recognize an old wound when she saw one, and left the matter alone. 

 

“Why wouldn’t he?” He asks, tiredly. Tom went there, after all. And if Harry was indeed a Potter, then her whole family would have attended it as well. 

 

Harry shrugs. “There are a lot of other good schools out there.” She glances at him quickly. “I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Durmstrang though, honestly.”

 

He blinks, surprised. “You’d consider Durmstrang?” 

 

“Well, if he really wants to go.” Harry hedges vaguely. She looks away as she adds; “And you and your whole family went there, right?” 

 

He blinks again, lowering Leon back into his lap. The baby gnaws at his fist, looking between his parents with evident interest. 

 

“Yes, we did.” He replies, after a long moment. Then he looks back down at Leon. “I think we have quite a few more years before we have to worry about this, though.”

 

Harry is startled into a bubble of laughter. “Yes, that’s very true. Maybe we should worry about kindergarten first.”

 

“Yes, that might be a bit more relevant, wouldn’t it?” Gellert agrees readily. 

 

The whole conversation only serves to remind him of the gravity of the situation. Right now, Leon is a little ball of chubby cheeks and kitten ears, but eventually he’ll grow up into a real human. It will take many years of endurance and commitment to raise him into adulthood— it’s not the sort of task you undertake if you’re not in it for the long haul. He knows Harry must have considered that, before having him. And even if she hadn’t, she’s not the type of person who would walk away. He supposes he really isn’t either. 

 

“Mates,” he says, suddenly. “What does that mean?”

 

Harry moves away from where she had been making faces over his shoulder, putting distance between them once again. She brushes imaginary lint off her sweater. “I’m not entirely sure what qualifies as a ‘mate’ by snake standards, but from what I gathered from Spot you seem to be mine. I mean, you protect us both and, well, we have a baby. And we’re raising him together, aren’t we? So you protect and care for him, which I guess makes you my mate.”

 

Gellert is silent for a moment. 

 

Is it really that simple? 

 

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, slowly. “Mates is fine, but marriage is completely out of the question.”

 

A high flush rises on Harry’s cheeks as she folds her arms and looks away. “Marriage is different.” She insists, churlishly. “Marriage is all about  _ other  _ people and their perceptions of you, and has absolutely nothing to do with your actual relationship with a person. But mates… mates is personal. Obviously if you tell someone we’re mates they’ll look at you like you’re crazy, but to us it— it means something, you know? And that’s all that really matters.”

 

Oh.

 

So maybe it really  _ is  _ that simple.

 

“ _ That’s  _ why you didn’t want to get married?” He clarifies, cautiously. “Not because of me, but because of everything else about it?”

 

“Of course it wasn’t because of you!” She retorts, hotly, with such vehemence he’s a bit taken aback by it. “I just— I don’t know, I don’t think I’m ever going to want to have one.”

 

Not here, anyway. She doesn’t want to get married in front of people who more or less mean nothing to her, who are nothing but simple passing faces. She might acquiesce to it, if she could have a wedding like Fleur and Bill— surrounded by family and friends, in the twilight hours in a rolling field behind the Burrow— but obviously with Gellert that would be impossible, so it seems like such a monumental effort even to try. 

 

And anyway, she can only imagine the circus that would be a marriage to the Dark Lord of all people. All the people they’d have to invite, all the pomp and circumstance— it would be a nightmare. Not to mention that getting a marriage license in and of itself in this dimension might be a bit difficult, considering she doesn’t technically exist here, and why do they even have to get married anyhow? Their relationship is no one’s business but their own. What Gellert means to her is between her and Gellert; she doesn’t have to scream it to the entire world. 

 

Gellert considers her carefully. “So how  _ do  _ you feel about me, then?” 

 

It’s the first time he’s ever asked her point blank like this, but he decided to take a page out of her book and just say what he wanted to say as straightforwardly as possible. 

 

Predictably, Harry’s spine stiffens as she sits beside him. Leon, still in his lap, has begun to teeter precariously to the left as he tries to catch her curls in the wind. Harry notices when he gives a sharp tug to her hair, turning around and hauling the baby out of his arms to twirl him around a few times. Leon smiles up at her adoringly. Harry smiles back. Gellert is surprisingly content to sit here and watch them as he waits for an answer that might not ever come. 

 

She surprises him, though. 

 

“I don’t really know,” she answers, as a silence comes and goes. “I like you. I like spending time with you. I like having you here.”

 

And yet it’s so easy to hear all the things she  _ doesn’t  _ say. 

 

I don’t like what you’re trying to do to the world. I don’t like your high society, all your castles and royal balls and court galas. I don’t like your dark magic, as much as I try to accept it. 

 

“I think you’re an amazing daddy to Leon,” she adds quietly as she cuddles the baby close, catching him by conclusive surprise. “I think you’re very good with Tom, too. I don’t think he’d be as grounded, if you weren’t here to teach him. And he listens to you; he never listens to his teachers when they tell him something’s too dangerous to try.”

 

They’re both quiet for a long moment, as Harry’s words seem to settle in the air around them.

 

She spins around then, facing him. Her sparkling eyes are full of nervousness. “Is that… is that enough of an answer?” 

 

He looks at her, in the watery afternoon sunshine, holding their son in her hands as the wind licks at her hair; the moment seems both timeless and ephemeral. 

 

“Yes,” he says, honestly. 

 

And it is. 

 

For now. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @victoraflumine on tumblr, whose request I accidentally replied to which apparently deletes from your inbox :O I tried to remember as best I could sorry if it's not quite right!!

 

It is a bitter but sunny day out when they finally take Leon on his first trip to the park. Harry worries endlessly over his outfit; Gellert reminds her he’ll be just fine with a warming charm thrown over the pram, but she just turns up her nose at him. Apparently it has nothing to do with the weather, but everything to do with the fashion.

 

“This one is  _ so cute, _ ” she remarks seriously, holding up a fluffy onesie appropriate for the weather. It would have been fine if it didn't have an adorable lamb hood to complete the ensemble. Then she holds up an outfit that looks like miniature adult clothing; a wool peacoat and jumper and the tiniest trousers he's ever seen. It was weird, but acceptable enough. The cat eared socks and hat were not. “But he hasn't worn this yet!”

 

Gellert spares her an exasperated look. “Is this truly such a difficult task?”

 

In his crib, Leon gnaws at the ear of his stuffed lion, giggling as he watches garments fly through the air, wearing nothing but his diaper because his mother is incapable of choosing an outfit. In all fairness, it is a bit of a herculean task— just  _ how  _ did Harry manage to procure such vast amounts of baby clothing in such a short amount of time? And in such strange patterns and styles? Gellert picks up one of the discarded outfits off the floor; it’s a little white onesie with dancing hedgehogs patterned over it. He stares at it quizzically. 

 

Harry has a tentative pile of ‘maybe’ outfits that she has slung over the back of the chaise. She is currently deeply engaged in an internal debate over a dozen pairs of socks. Eventually she chooses the cat-ear pair. Then she dismisses all of them,  _ again,  _ and reaches for the lamb jumpsuit. 

 

She grabs it off the back of the chair, pursing her lips. 

 

_ Please,  _ he thinks,  _ please just pick that one. _

 

“But it’s so cute when he wears this with his lion toy.” She whines to herself; clearly there is some sort of internal argument going on.

 

“I completely agree.” He nods sagely. “You should go with that one. Can we leave now?”

 

“What have I told you about rushing me?” Harry scowls, but complies nonetheless. She walks over to dress Leon with an impressive efficiency Gellert could only dream of having. 

 

Soon enough Leon is secured in her arms, stuffed toy and all. From this angle, all Gellert can see is the dopey lamb’s face on the hood, making it appear as if Harry is carrying a little lamb in her arms. He can admit it’s  _ a little  _ cute. 

 

_ Everyone  _ thinks it’s cute, actually. 

 

Leon is as happy and bubbly as usual despite the cold, probably warm and cozy beneath his blanket in his padded pram, lion tucked underneath his arm. Harry spends far too much time standing around taking pictures of him doing basically nothing. Everybody from other young couples to elderly grandchildren to other kids stops to comment on how cute he his outfit is, much to Harry’s delight. He doesn’t even know why he’s here. He has a lot of more important tasks to get started on, and he’s avoiding all of them and instead walking around in circles through the Boston Public Gardens. As pressing as those matters are, he finds its impossible to give them any attention when Harry and Leon are in front of him, cooing at the swans.

 

“Look here, Leon!” She coos as she snaps another photo, this time of him with some swans in the background. Predictably he does not look; he has found little glimpses of fish beneath the frigid water, and his attention is wholly fixated on them. 

 

“Why do you need so many photos, anyway?” He calls, annoyed, from the safety of the pavement. He has no interest in stepping on the muddy, geese feces ridden bank. Harry, dressed in her wellies and a cozy peacoat, has no such issue. 

 

“Because people want to see him, of course!” She replies, tucking the camera back into her bag as she totes Leon back to safety.

 

Gellert tilts his head quizzically. “Then why don’t they just come over and see him?”

 

Harry busies herself with strapping Leon back into his stroller, giving herself time to respond. “Oh, you know, busy schedules and the like.”

 

He narrows his eyes at her. “But your family wouldn’t want to see him at least once?” He’s been alive for a full year now, and she’s never had anyone visit in the entire time he’s been at her house. It was a bit anomalous, really. She speaks often about her friends and family, but he’s never met any of them.

 

“I don’t have a family,” she replies, flatly. It’s a complicated subject for her, he knows. 

 

He frowns. “But you speak of them all the time?” And he’s seen the photos; there are a few that linger on the wall by the front entrance, gaggles of redheads crowded around Christmas trees. 

 

“They’re not really my family— they’re the family of my best friend.” She smiles at him wanly. “But I consider them my family. All the same it’d be a lot for them to travel and visit me; they’re not very well off.” 

 

Certainly not like Gellert, who has the kind of money to travel internationally as he pleases. He supposes he can understand that, then. But if they live in England, the international portkey wouldn’t be  _ that  _ expensive. 

 

All the same, an excellent way to get Harry to turn frosty and uncommunicative is to prod her into giving answers she doesn’t want to give. He considers if he  _ really  _ wants to ruin this lovely afternoon they’re sharing together; the sun is shining, Tom is at school (and is therefore not meanly and pettily commandeering all of Harry’s attention just to spite him) the snake is at home and Harry is in a happy mood. 

 

“Do you want me to take a photo of the two of you?” He offers instead, deciding he really doesn’t want to ruin this afternoon. 

 

Harry beams at him. “Yes!”

 

She quickly grabs Leon out of his pram, bouncing him lightly in her arms. Forever charmed by her hair, Leon is not upset to be stolen from his warm nest in the least. Already one of his hands is reaching up to tug on long curls. 

 

He can’t help but grin at the sight. He can’t help but always feel content at the sight of them. “Smile,” he says, even though neither of them need much reminding, smiling away as they are. 

 

He thinks it’s a good photo; he supposes he’ll just have to wait until he can see the film developed. But the background of swans and drifts of snow below a clear winter sky are picturesque, and Harry and Leon, smiling at each other and completely forgetting about the camera, are just as breathtaking if not more so. 

 

Before he can return it to her, she flags down an unsuspecting couple on a romantic walk through the gardens, asking them to take a photo of all of them.

 

“We don’t have any photos together,” she says in explanation to his surprised expression.

 

The thought makes him maudlin enough that he completely misses the flash going off— hopefully his expression isn’t as sobering as his inward thoughts. He and Harry have no photos. There are probably hundreds of little Leon at this point, and many more of Harry and Tom, but he doesn’t think they have a single photo together. It’s not the sort of thing he’d usually think about, let alone stew over. Photos of himself make him think of long hours posing for family portraits, uncomfortable in his formal robes and tired from standing so much as the man behind the camera goes through roll after roll. Those perfunctory and painfully formal photos that lined his family’s manor are the exact opposite of any of Harry’s photos. 

 

Her albums are full of informal and authentic snapshots into everyday life; Leon grinning and gnawing at his lion, Tom out in the yard with Spot. Harry and Tom and Leon playing in a pile of autumn leaves. She has endless albums all dedicated to such insignificant moments like that— moments that somehow, despite their briefness, can carry so much meaning once they’re immortalized in film. This will be a distant memory one day, a pleasant one, but not anything impressive. Somehow, knowing it may one day end up in one of Harry’s many photo albums makes it poignant and impressive, something sweet to look back on with nostalgia. 

 

“What do you think Leon?” Harry is murmuring to the baby, once she’s profusely thanked the couple for their time and sent them on their way. “Do you like swans?”

 

He chews on the tail of his lion in response.

 

“Yeah, me either.” Harry agrees, bouncing him lightly as they gaze out over the crystal waters. “They’re menaces. Almost as bad as geese. The strife of Canada.”

 

Gellert snorts. That’s exactly the sort of thing Harry would say. 

 

They walk around the public gardens for a little longer, enjoying the crisp winter air. Leon is in a fantastic mood; he keeps point at things and Harry keeps nodding along with a beaming smile, telling him what they are. The park isn’t overly crowded despite it being the weekend, probably due to the chilly weather.  

 

Afterwards they take a turn down Charles Street, Harry peering into the many antique shops in a half-hearted attempt to find something for Christmas for Tom. He can see how shopping for the boy would be difficult, considering how difficult the boy is himself. That being said he and Tom  _ are  _ perhaps more similar than they like to admit, so he reminds Harry that the best thing she could probably get him is something related to necromancy. Harry agrees, with a note of sadness. Unsurprisingly she’d much rather shop for clothes than dead things. 

 

It’s a lovely outting, all and all. Even if it does nothing to ease the general confusion he has on Harry and her life and his place in it, he can admit there isn’t anywhere else he would have rather been. He wonders if Leon will even remember this day, when he gets older. Then he wonders if it even matters. 

 

If there was ever a time his parents were anything but indifferent to him, he has no memory of it. 

 

He’d at least like Leon to remember, somewhere, that he has two parents who love him very much, and would happily spend all day with him, no matter how busy they were. 

 

&&

 

“What’s this, Leon?” 

 

The small blonde child stares at the object in his hands with intense fervor. “Baa-baa.” He answers, solemnly.

 

Tom beams. “Yes, this is a sheep.” 

 

It’s true Leon had yet to graduate out of his babble-like baby speech, in human tongues anyway, but all the same Tom could see there was an impressive and uncanny intelligence behind his dazzling green eyes; one that was merely just having slight difficulties being enunciated properly. No matter. Tom was determined to change that during his few weeks of holiday. By the time he returned to school, he would have Leon speaking full sentences. 

 

The baby smacks his hand against an unsuspecting member of his stuffed animal army. “Bun-bun.” He says, as he grabs the sad rabbit by a furry ear, and promptly puts it in his mouth.

 

Tom scowls. “Yes, that is a rabbit, but you shouldn’t bite it like that, Leon.” He moves to gently tug the lopsided ear out of the baby’s mouth.

 

Even with his little baby teeth, the boy’s grip is surprisingly strong. “Nooo,” he whines, tugging it back.

 

“You can’t put things in your mouth like that, Leon, that’s unbecoming and beneath you.”

 

From her spot on the chaise, Harry snorts loudly. “He’s a baby, Tom. All they do is put questionably unsanitary items in their mouths.”

 

Tom gives her a disparaging look. “Leon isn’t like other babies.” He sniffs, in the most pretentious way possible.

 

Harry just gives him a deeply unimpressed look. “He is a one year-old, Tom. His teeth are growing in. Of course he’s going to want to alleviate that somehow.”

 

“By chewing everything in sight?” Tom retorts, scandalized. “That’s barbaric!”

 

Harry rolls her eyes, hard. 

 

Tom has all these grand plans for Leon, which is hilariously adorable but completely unrealistic. She thinks he has some vague idea of a future of them causing catastrophic chaos like two mad-scientist super villains, upheaving the world with one ingenious idea at a time. It’s cute, but definitely needs to wait a couple more years. At least until Leon can  _ walk.  _ The fact that he can speak simple words and follow a conversation is impressive enough as it is. 

 

She knows Tom doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just a little too over-excited at the prospect of having someone of equal genius to accompany him through all of his adventures. Tom finds all of his peers to be droll and uninteresting, their level of intelligence so far beneath his own they may as well be two entirely different species. No one  _ understands  _ Tom, except Harry, and even then she may accept and understand him, but she doesn’t really  _ get it.  _ She’s never going to be as smart as him, solving chemistry puzzles and stringing together prime numbers in the bat of an eyelash. 

 

Harry and Tom are two halves of the same coin. 

 

But Tom and Leon are two halves of the same  _ side. _ Just as Harry and Tom are such opposites that they balance each other, Tom and Leon are so identical that they balance each other as well.

 

All the same though, Leon is still a baby. Tom is giddy and excited and impatient to have someone else to share the world with, but it will be some years yet before Leon will be able to toddle along side him as they raise dead things in the backyard. 

 

“He’s just a baby, Tom.” Harry says, finally, shaking her thoughts away. “It’s totally normal that he’ll chew on his toys. They’re made for that.”

 

Leon seems to vehemently agree with her, tugging his bunny out of Tom’s grip, holding it close to his chest. 

 

Tom watches him with blatant frustration, and no small amount of impatience. It shouldn’t be adorable, but it is. Tom just wants him to grow up  _ now.  _

 

Leon gnaws some more on his bunny rabbit, before being distracted by his toes. He shoves one of his feet into his mouth in an impressive display of flexibility. Tom makes a noise of disgust, flopping onto the floor in a dramatic huff. 

 

Leon just giggles at him, before turning his eyes to Harry. “Mama, go potty.” He says, around his sock. 

 

Quite frankly, Harry is perfectly happy with Leon’s intelligence— in fact, she’s beyond thrilled. That he can adequately communicate when he needs to use the bathroom is all the intelligence she gives a damn about. 

 

She closes her laptop and hops off the couch, hauling the baby into her arms. “Okay little hatchling, let’s go potty.” 

 

Leon claps his hands. 

 

Tom just gives a loud sigh from his spot on the floor.

 

It’s true, efforts to teach Leon are slow going, but prove fruitful if done consistently. Harry doesn’t understand. Leon is perfectly capable of holding complex conversations and carrying abstract thoughts; he just doesn’t bother to do so. He’s just being lazy because he knows he doesn’t need to yet. 

 

Honestly, how much longer must he wait?

 

He hears the lock turn in the door, scowling deeply as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t even bother to open them as he hears the door open and shut, and the scuffling of boots on the mat before a cleaning charm vanishes the slush and snow. 

 

As the footsteps near him, he cracks open one eye. His scowl deepens, and he shuts his eyes and turns his head away. “Oh. It’s  _ you _ .” 

 

A tall blonde man with uncannily similar features to the baby who had just left the room unwinds a scarf from around his neck, not looking bothered in the least by such a dismissive tone. “I wonder who else you could possibly have thought it would be.”

 

Tom lets out a long sigh. “I was hoping you had met an unfortunate accident somewhere between here and the grocery store.”

 

“There were a few ice patches I contemplated, but ultimately I decided I wanted a spring funeral.” He replies without missing a beat.

 

“I suppose I can wait a few months, if I must.” Tom returns, deadpan.

 

“Must you two be so morbid?” Harry laments, carrying Leon down the stairs. 

 

Leon takes one look at the man, and begins to babble happily. Unfathomably, the most ruthless and terrifying Dark Lord of the century begins to babble back. Tom looks away in disgust. Again with the baby talk! How will Leon ever learn to speak English with eloquence, let alone the four other languages Tom has lined up to teach him? 

 

Gellert smiles at the redhead. “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

 

“It’s not quite Christmas yet, you know.” Harry points out with an amused smile.

 

“It’s the principle of the thing, no?” The man shrugs, bouncing Leon in his arms. “Right Leon? Are you excited for Christmas?”

 

Leon just smiles widely at him, babbling. Tom sighs, defeated. It’s as if Leon wants to  _ hide  _ his intelligence, or is trying to actively fight against it and remain a baby. He doesn’t understand, but he totally blames Gellert for all of it. 

 

“Tom, would you mind wrapping up the presents?” Harry asks, as she moves into the kitchen, deftly catching Spot by the snout before he can attempt to get into the cupboards.

He obliges with a sigh, sitting up and heading over towards the bags by the door. It’s no surprise Leon has a truly boggling amount of presents, even though it’s not his first Christmas anymore. Tom supposes the second is just as big of a deal; the novelty of buying cute baby clothes will never wear off as far as Harry is concerned. 

 

Leon’s eyes grow excited as he sees Tom pull out wrapping paper, and he kicks out his feet until his father has to put him down. After that he gleefully toddles over to Tom’s side, collapsing by his knees to watch with fervor as sparkling wrapping paper unfurls in front of him. Gellert looks vaguely annoyed to be so readily dismissed for Tom, which is always a win in Tom’s book. 

 

_ “Which one should we wrap first, Leon?”  _ Tom asks, as he grabs a few boxes out of the bag.

 

Leon looks at them consideringly.  _ “Biggest first!”  _

 

Tom nods solemnly.  _ “Yes, best to get the most difficult out of the way. It’s also most practical, since we might not have enough wrapping paper for it left if we wrapped it last.”  _ Tom explains, calmly. 

 

_ “Yes.”  _ Leon agrees. His baby lisp is far less noticeable in parseltongue— and the language has the added bonus of being completely inaccessible to Gellert. Tom uses it to great aplomb. 

 

_ “And what color should we use?” _

 

Leon beams up at him.  _ “Green!” _

 

Tom uses a bit of magic to snip off the paper, and folds it carefully over the box. When he’s done he swishes his wand to wrap it up nicely in a green ribbon. He gives it another tap, and little jingle bells and holly sprigs tie into the bow. Leon claps his hands in utter delight; between he and Grindelwald and Harry the little boy has watched (from a safe distance) spells as grand as fiendfyre and as mystifying as a patronus, and yet for some unfathomable reason he is enamored with this silly little charm that conjures jingle bells. Probably because they are small and shiny, Tom digresses. 

 

Tom continues on in this manner, dictating most of the creative choices to Leon. He won’t say it’s the most color coordinated the presents have ever been, but it’s much more fun this way. He’s managed to get through most of the presents in need of wrapping before Leon collapses in his lap, apparently tired out from all his observations. Tom carries him to the living room, so they can sleep on the couch with Spot. 

 

Harry thinks the whole thing is just darling— Gellert is not nearly as impressed, but makes no move to break them apart. He knows Tom  _ thinks  _ he’s winning, in whatever strange and convoluted competition he’s made up for them, but at the end of the day Gellert wins either way. Tom  _ adores  _ Leon, just as much as Leon adores him, which is more than enough for Gellert. 

 

“How long do you think they’ll be at this?” Harry asks from behind him. He turns around to see her levitating over a few cups of hot chocolate. 

 

“Best just leave them to it.” Gellert advises, reaching for one of the floating mugs. “Tom won’t quit until all the presents are wrapped to perfection. They’ll be up again before you know it.” 

 

Yes, that does sound like something Tom would do. She smiles down fondly at them. Spot opens his slitted eyes to spare them a wary look, but otherwise none of them notice the pair observing them. Leon is drooling all over Tom’s shirt. 

 

“Now what was this about your spring funeral I heard about?” Harry asks, over the rim of her cup.

 

Gellert merely smiles. “Oh, it’s merely Tom’s way of showing his affection towards me.”

 

“By planning your imminent death?” She raises a brow. 

 

The Dark Lord shrugs. “It’s the acknowledgment.” It’s a vast improvement, at any rate, from the usual stone cold silence he’s grown accustomed to where Tom is concerned. 

 

Their relationship wasn’t always so terrible. 

 

There was a time, in the beginning of their acquaintanceship, when Gellert might have even said Tom  _ liked  _ him. He respected him, found him fascinating and knowledgeable and someone to pay attention to. A figure of authority he actually cared to listen to. Gellert was (is?) Tom’s mentor, and he’d proved himself adequate enough in the post that Tom frequently sought him out of his own volition. They had an easy, working relationship; Gellert would teach Tom new things, or would gently nudge him in the right direction; Tom would come back with questions, new directions, or completely backwards but innovative ways of thinking of things that sometimes were completely wrong and sometimes taught Gellert a few things. It was nice, actually. 

 

And then of course, Tom found out he was in some vague and convoluted relationship with Harry, and the fallout was apocalyptic. 

 

He’d mourned the lost but considered it an unfortunate necessity, and had accepted the fact that, due to Tom’s possessive nature and extreme abandonment issues, he would never approve of _anyone_ with romantic interests in Harry, _ever._ He’d made his peace with that. 

 

It had been Leon he’d been worried about.

 

What if Tom hated the child on principle? What if he intentionally tried to drive a wedge between it, Harry, and Gellert? And if he successfully managed to do it, where would the pieces fall? For most of the duration of her pregnancy Gellert didn’t actually know how she felt about the baby at all— what if she decided not to keep it? That was a ludicrous thought, he knew that now, Harry loves Leon, but at the time everything was truly up in the air. And for all he knew, Tom might refuse to have a baby in the house and Harry would accept this and toss it out, Gellert along with it. 

 

And then Leon finally arrived, and at first it seemed his suspicions were correct. Tom was wary of the small creature, staring at it oddly for long amounts of time. At first Gellert thought he was conspiring ways to drown it in the bathtub, but before long it became clear he was fascinated with this little thing as if he was a science experiment. He would poke and prod the baby to see what he would do in response, and began recording his movements and behaviors religiously. He had a record of how many times Leon yawned in a given day  _ (roughly fifteen) _ the longest he’d ever slept  _ (a hearty eighteen hours) _ the growth rate of his limbs  _ (about .3 centimeters per month)  _ and the longest he’d gone without blinking  _ (two minutes, the house champion discounting Spot).  _ He read to him constantly, in English and occasionally Latin, and spoke to him endlessly in Parseltongue, waiting with abated breath to see if Leon would learn to speak it as well. These days, Gellert had a sinking suspicion Leon was far more fluent in Parseltongue than he was in either English or German, just from the length of conversation he and Tom seemed to have. 

 

Suffice to say, Tom adored Leon. He adored Gellert a whole lot less.

 

Ever since he’d found out that Gellert would be coming around indefinitely, he’d taken to just ignoring him flat out. Gellert had a feeling the main reason Harry didn’t want him to move in was because Tom would throw a fit over it, in the same manner he’d thrown a fit over Gellert coming to dinners and Gellert getting a key to the house. It’s only this past holiday that the boy seemed to be warming up to his constant presence again. At least, he said words these days, in the general direction of the Dark Lord.

 

Tom was lucky he was the apple of Harry’s eye— the Dark Lord had killed for far less disrespect than this. 

 

All the same, he would take what he could get. Tom loving and accepting Leon as part of the family was more than enough for him. 

 

&&

 

_ “You see, the speed of light is often considered the speed of space, but this is patently untrue. In reality, this rarely applies in the known universe, since even space has a certain level of friction to it that prevents optimum speed. Not even dark matter travels at the speed of light. The only things that do are, of course, light itself; gravity; most waveforms; and the electromagnetic spectrum.”  _

 

Leon blinks at him slowly. 

 

Tom continues with his lecture.  _ “So it can be inferred then that the speed of light is the fastest energy can travel in the known universe. Energy can only travel at the speed of light. Matter, meanwhile, can never travel at the speed of light. It can come close to approaching it, but will never be able to reach it.” _

 

_ “This is why magic does not travel at the speed of light,”  _ he says, in summary,  _ “despite being an energy. Because it has tangible weight to it, it has mass, and since it has mass, it cannot travel at the speed of light. Adding to that the friction of air particles, and it actually travels rather slowly. Far below the speed of sound, at any rate.” _

 

He turns to his dedicated student, who is making a valiant effort to remain awake despite his approaching bedtime. Even Tom knows most of his lecture didn’t register to the baby, but he’s pleased Leon seemed to follow along nonetheless.  _ Some  _ of that had to sink into his brain, somewhere. Infants had such a riveting and complex neurological structure that allowed them to absorb information at a terrifying rate; Tom was sure that would come into play somehow. 

 

Tom sighs.  _ “Yes, yes. I suppose that’s enough science for today. Harry is expecting me to get you to sleep by seven.” _

 

This, at least, Leon seems to understand.  _ “No bedtime.”  _ He insists.

 

_ “Yes, bedtime.”  _ Tom sighs.  _ “Look, I’ll even stay with you, okay? And so will Spot. Right Spot?” _

 

He turns towards the door, only to find a creature that is decidedly not Spot leaning on the door jam.

 

Tom scowls, but otherwise ignores the man’s presence.  _ “Spot, where are you?” _

 

There is a telltale slithering from the hallway, and then the giant yellow snake is winding towards them. 

 

_ “Well, go on,”  _ Tom commands the snake, imperiously. 

 

_ “Why must I be degraded in such a manner?”  _ Spot complains, even as he slithers around Leon, much to the baby’s delight.  _ “I eat creatures his size, you know.” _

 

_ “No, you eat pizza and rotisserie chicken.”  _ Tom returns, unimpressed.  _ “If we left you to your devices, you would eat nothing but freezer food.” _

 

Spot has no response to this, as he winds himself in long loops, until Leon is basically cocooned in scales. Finally when he has curled around the baby until he’s made a makeshift cradle, he lays his head on top of his coiled body and gives Tom a sad look. Tom ignores him, and goes about finding Leon’s favorite toys. He tucks in his lion and his rabbit and his lamb, manuevering Spot around so they can all fit. 

 

_ “There.”  _ He leans back, once he’s finished.  _ ”Isn’t that comfortable? Don’t you want to go to sleep now?”  _

 

_ “Sleep boring,”  _ Leon complains. 

 

_ “Yes, but sleep is necessary. Your body grows and repairs itself during sleep, so if you don’t sleep you won’t grow big and strong enough to take over the galaxy with me.”  _ Tom says, deadly serious.

 

Leon considers this. Then he reaches for bun-bun, and settles in his nest.  _ “Okay.”  _ He agrees, reluctant.  _ “Tom sleep too.”  _ He pats Spot, as if beckoning Tom to join him. 

 

Tom smiles.  _ “I’m a bit too big to fit.”  _ He muses.

 

Leon seems to understand, but he still frowns imperiously.  _ “Stay.”  _ He commands. 

 

Tom can’t help but laugh.  _ “Sure, I’ll stay.”  _ Maybe even for the whole night. Leon had a notorious habit of waking up in the middle of the night and crying when Tom wasn’t there, especially when Tom had promised to sleep with him. 

 

He waits until Leon has closed his eyes and has begun to drift off before confronting their unwanted onlooker. 

 

“Did you need something?” He asks, blandly. 

 

Grindelwald, as usual, doesn’t look remotely offended by his tone. Tom wonders if the man has realized that only irritates Tom more; anyone else would be strung up by their ears— probably literally— for speaking to the dreaded Dark Lord so callously, and yet the man doesn’t even bat an eyelash whenever Tom does it. As if Tom is so far beneath him it’s not even worth the effort. Like he’s a baby and the man is  _ indulging  _ him. It’s insulting. 

 

And then, as if he lives to get under Tom’s skin, he replies; “Harry and I are leaving. Will you two be alright for the night? We might not be back until late.”

 

Tom wants to hex him right out of the house for that. He grits his teeth. “Yes, obviously. What’s the point in even asking?”

 

“It seemed appropriate to inform you we would be out later than intended.” The man replies smoothly. His eyes glint in the low light, in a manner that makes Tom certain he’s doing this just to irritate him.

 

Tom bristles angrily, before plastering a smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I know how to get a hold of Harry if needed.” 

 

And they both know Harry will come running back for him, no matter how fancy the dinner of how difficult the reservations were to get on Christmas Eve, and Gellert damn well knows it. 

 

“Gellert?” Harry’s voice chimes in from downstairs. “Are you ready?”

 

“Coming,  _ darling _ .” He sends another smirk Tom’s way, before disappearing down the hall. 

 

It’s really rather petty of Gellert, but he supposes he was due for an indulgence. Tom always makes it incredibly difficult to take the high road every time, and even though Gellert knows he’s the adult and he should be more mature than this, he does find it wholly satisfying to irritate the boy. Especially since Tom is so good at irritating him. 

 

He probably didn’t even mean to this time, but the Dark Lord has a feeling he will never be comfortable with the fact that everyone in this family can speak to snakes but him. Like it’s just another reminder that he is the odd one out in this strange family arrangement, the one who doesn’t quite fit. 

 

“Gellert?” Harry calls, from down the stairs. She looks as wonderful as usual, her sparkling white and red dress managing to look both elegant and festive. “Everything all right up there?”

 

“Just fine,” he replies, as he heads down the stairs. “Tom is putting Leon to bed, with the assistance of Spot.”

 

Harry grins widely. “He’s figured out a surefire way to get Leon to sleep already, hasn’t he?”

 

“The allure of Spot is too much for Leon to resist.” Gellert nods sagely. 

 

Harry smiles wider. The Christmas lights twinkle against the pins in her hair like little stars, and Gellert wants to reach out and touch them. Harry would probably skewer him with her heel if he dared to mess up her hairstyle though, so instead he reaches to tug her closer by the shoulder, grazing a kiss against her lips. Harry smiles into it, leaning closer. And if they might just have a particularly outraged audience at the top of the stairs, well, that’s just icing on the cake. 


	4. Warmth Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll look after him.” He swears, gravely.
> 
> “Of course you will.” She agrees promptly, smile widening. “You always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TSUME YOU CREATED A MONSTER
> 
> //
> 
> I'm in a lo-fi mood so the chapter is for Samashi's Warmth Feeling. But any lo-fi will do, honestly. Poor editing, because I wrote this in like 2 hours lol.

Harry and Gellert were arguing.

 

It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, but still catastrophic on the rare chance they surfaced. And much like other catastrophic events, it was best to weather the storm from a safer vantage point. Today that was the stone bench facing the pond outside. 

 

The yard was small, but well taken care of. It was nothing at all like his father’s many homes scattered about the European continent, snowy chateaus and ancient Viennese castles with their opulent views and manicured gardens. In all honesty though, those places tended to make Leon feel a little antsy. He’d never gotten used to that much space. He’d always preferred his mother’s much smaller, but well-loved townhouse— and more importantly, the inhabitants within. He gave the snake in his lap a couple scratches beneath his chin; Spot gave a low rumble of contentment in response. 

 

_ “Did Tom tell you when he was coming home?”  _ He murmurs to the banana-yellow snake. 

 

Spot flicks his tongue out a few times.  _ “Of course not.”  _ The snake replies, to Leon’s visible disappointment.

 

_ “Oh.”  _ The young boy says, eyes lowering. 

 

It was a bit of a long shot, but all the same he can’t help the maudlin feeling and the swell of longing that overcomes him as he watches the koi flicker about beneath the water. It’s not like Tom would tell Spot when he was coming home; more than likely Harry would know, but current events have made that avenue of insight inadvisable. The blonde sighs, blowing out wisps of lemon colored hair away from his eyes as he slumps down beside the pond, Spot protesting as he’s squished in his lap. He trails a bored hand across the water’s surface, attracting the attention of the fish beneath. They lap up to the surface in a flurry of bright colors, intent on making a meal out of his finger. They all lose interest once it becomes apparent that his finger has no intention of leaving his hand, skulking off back into the depths of the pond. 

 

_ “Where’re the turtles?”  _ He turns an accusatory look towards the snake in his lap. 

 

The last time Leon was home Tom had taken him to New York City, ostensibly to bring back Harry’s favorite soup dumplings but the only thing they’d returned with were a pair of tiny turtles bartered off of a shopkeeper in a two for one special. Harry had been less than thrilled to see new reptiles in the house, but Tom had insisted they’d keep them outside. Leon had worried they’d freeze over during the winter. Tom promised him they’d be okay. Tom always knew everything, so Leon hadn’t thought to spare it much thought after that. 

 

_ “I did not eat them, if that’s what you are inferring.”  _ Spot retorts, petulantly. 

 

Leon frowns, scooting closer to the edge of the pond.  _ “I don’t see them, though.”  _ He returns, dismayed. Maybe they wandered off to a different pond? Or maybe one of the big koi fish thought they’d make a tasty meal? They were still so small, after all. Or… had they grown a lot already?

 

Maybe they were just… gone. It was mildly alarming, how much things could change from one semester to the next. On a chilly winter’s day they were there, and then six months later in the heat of summer they were gone. But time tended to give him a headache on the best of days, so he tried not to think about it anymore than he had to. Although considering his family, that was a lot to ask. 

 

He chances a glance back towards the house, glass doors obscured in the bright light of the afternoon. 

 

So many things could change in that span of time, and yet so much could stay the same, too.

 

The blonde rolls his eyes, and lets out another annoyed huff. Who knows how long Harry and Gellert will be at it this time. It was so typical of them, to argue on his first full day back. It’s getting uncomfortably warm out here, and he wants to go back inside. It’s probably best to stick out in the miserable heat for a little longer though; he never knows what to do when they argue, especially when the argument is about  _ him.  _

 

Tom would know, probably, but he never bothers to get between them when they’re fighting. If Leon didn’t know any better, he’d say Tom likes it. Wait, what is he saying, the older boy most certainly enjoys their arguments. He delights in chaos of all kinds. 

 

But Leon could spend all afternoon musing on the older boy, and never come to any solid conclusions. Although he supposes sitting here pondering on the mysteries of Tom was a better use of his time than sitting here pondering on when the other boy was coming home.  _ If  _ he was coming home. 

 

_ He wouldn’t miss my first summer break though, would he?  _

 

Leon wishes he had the answer to that— but like most things about Tom, he really doesn’t know. 

 

He must doze off for a little bit in the late sunshine, as dazzling stories unfold beneath his eyes. Traipsing through a steaming jungle full of howling monkeys and ancient stone ruins; a misty boat ride across a silent slip of river among the foot of staggering giants; crossing endless dunes under the stars of a cold desert night; staggering up buffeting cliffs with whipping winds cutting through his hair, in search of a mystical treasure. He’s lucid enough to know none of these adventures have ever happened to him, but they have been whispered into his ear in the dead of night, stolen under the darkness like little treasures for him to keep forever, even if they’ll never truly belong to him. In all these stories Tom is by his side, showing him the universe as he sees it, in all its ephemeral glory. 

 

The warm summer wind ruffles his hair slightly, as speckles of sun seep through the tree above him and create patterns of warmth against his cheeks. Spot slumbers in his lap. He wonders where Tom might be now— it’s a difficult question to contemplate. He could be anywhere, in any point in time, doing anything. 

 

He could be as far away as the Uyuni salt flats, or as near as the stone bench beside him. 

 

There’s no real logic to his comings and goings, although Leon has noticed he tends to hear the sound of bells in the distance upon his arrival, and smell the scent of honey on his departure. That was always a bit of a toss up though, really, as such vague and inconsistent herrings were easy to confuse in his mind. Right now, for instance, he thinks he can hear the faint jingle of bells, but that could very well be from the neighbor’s wind chime. 

 

_ “I see Polk and Dot are doing well.”  _

 

Leon jumps up, disrupting Spot’s slumber and all but tumbling the snake into the pond. He blinks awake furiously, tilting his head up into the blinding light to see a dark silhouette over him. 

 

“Tom!” He scrambles to sit upright. “When did you get here?”

 

Tom grins at him with mischievous eyes. “When? What a terrible question to ask me. One could argue I’ve been here this whole time.”

 

Leon scowls crossly. “You know what I mean.”

 

Tom merely laughs. “I arrived quite recently. Had to check up on you lot, right? For all I know, you could’ve let Spot eat Polk and Dot!”

 

“I would never!” Leon protests, even though they both know it’s absurd to think Spot would ever voluntarily eat anything but pizza. And he most certainly never let the snake take a bite out of his precious turtles, even though their current whereabouts were unknown…

 

He whirls around to face the pond, relieved to see the small round shells of Polk and Dot near the surface in front of him, little limbs flailing about. 

 

He picks up what he thinks is Dot, examining the tiny thing in the sunshine. The little reptile waves its legs about, before disappearing into its shell. 

 

“I thought they’d disappeared over winter!”

 

“Of course not.” Tom snorts, settling himself on the bench. “The water is much warmer to them than the land.” He peers closer. “Although it looks like they could use a good scrubbing from all that spring algae.”

 

Leon frowns slightly, as he sets the turtle back into the water. He turns to Tom. “Have you not been home since springtime?”

 

Tom just shrugs. “I’ve been a bit busy.” 

 

Knowing Tom, that could mean anything. Despite not actually being related, he and Harry share their irritating ability to get away with the most elusive of answers. 

 

“Oh.” Either way, it’s silly to think Tom has the time to just swing by and check on their accidentally bought turtles, of all things. The young man regularly travels space and time— he can go anywhere, at any time. Surely he has better things to do?

 

“I’ve had Spot keep an eye on them.” Tom assures him. “And Harry really likes turtles, did you know? She kept them at work for most of winter.”

 

“She did?” 

 

“Yes. They were a hit at the office, supposedly.” 

 

Leon grins widely at him. “We could always get her more, if she wants some.”

 

Tom chuckles. “Maybe we should hold off on that plan, what with the way she chewed us out last time.”

 

“Harry has a soft spot for animals though.” Leon wisely notices, as he crawls up onto the bench beside Tom and snuggles into his side. “I bet if we brought home a cat, she’d yell for a little bit but then would never let it leave her side!”

 

“Harry likes cats the most.” Tom agrees sagely. 

 

_ “And what am I then, chopped liver?”  _ Spot scowls from his spot abandoned on the ground beneath them. 

 

_ “No, of course not. You don’t even like liver!”  _ Leon giggles, much to the snake’s annoyance. Spot was quite picky with his foods, for a snake. 

 

The banana yellow reptile gives what could have been a scoff, and slithers over to a large sunning rock, where he curls up and turns his head away from them in a most petulant manner. 

 

_ “I wonder if cats are as moody as snakes.”  _ Leon wonders, curiously. Spot hisses in response.

 

Tom ruffles his hair. “Somehow, unfathomably, they are far worse.”

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t surprise her with a cat, then.” Leon muses. “Maybe a dog?”

 

“Harry hates dogs.” Tom shakes his head. 

 

Leon sighs. “Well, any sort of animal, then. Maybe a surprise pet will get them to stop arguing.” 

 

“You’d rather her turn her ire from your father onto us?” Tom raises an incredulous brow. 

 

Ah. “Good point.”

 

Tom turns back to the sliding door behind them, eyes contemplative. His expression, when Leon peers up from beneath the arm slung around him, is difficult to read. It’s not like they can hear anything from outside, but Harry’s anger has a tendency to show itself in tangible ways. Like right now, Leon could swear he could see black mist seeping out from beneath the bottom of the door. Leon looks down at the ground, wringing his hands in his lap. It must be a pretty bad argument, then. About him? 

 

Tom turns back to Leon then, smiling. “Say,” he murmurs, as he brushes wild wisps of hair away from Leon’s eyes, “what do you think of an adventure?”

 

Leon all but jumps upright at that, morose expression melting away into a sunny smile. “Really? Right now?”

 

“Sure. They’ll probably never even notice we’re gone.”

 

He well and truly leaps to his feet at that, all but bouncing on his toes. “Yes! Yes please! Let’s go!”

 

Tom chuckles at his enthusiasm, getting to his feet as well. “Alright— sit still then, both feet firmly on the ground.”

 

The young blonde does as he’s told, keeping as still as possible with both feet on even footing. He closes his eyes tightly, as he reaches out to grab a hold of Tom. It’s always a curious feeling, to feel time slipping past them like this. Something smooth and incandescent, not quite cold but not warm, something without tangible weight that can still feel like water slipping over him. He thinks he can feel the presence of a bygone god, an ancient creature lost to history that he could see with his own two eyes if he would just open them, but he always makes sure to keep them tightly closed. 

 

When he feels the pull of gravity again, they are no longer in the yard. 

 

The first thing he recognizes is  _ cold.  _

 

When he opens his eyes the summer is long gone, leaving a perfect, icy blue winter sky. 

 

Tom is still holding him firmly, keeping him from falling over as gravity works its heavy spell over him. 

 

“Feeling okay?” He asks, as Leon takes a long moment to steady himself. 

 

“... I think so.” He rubs at his forehead, blinking a few times. 

 

Tom leaves his side to put coins in a nearby vending machine, returning with a warm drink. They’re very far away from home, Leon thinks, when he looks at the bottle and realizes he can’t read it. The city around them rises with electricity and skyscrapers hallmark to the twenty-first century. When he takes a sip he realizes its milk tea; his favorite, the one that Tom always brings back for him. 

 

By the time he finishes his drink Tom has conjured up a whole winter ensemble for him, despite Leon’s protests. As used to the New England— and now Scottish Highland— winters as he is, it’s not nearly cold enough to warrant a jacket, gloves, hat  _ and  _ scarf, but Tom points out Harry will be even more furious with them if Leon catches a cold on their adventure, so he acquiesces, if only to save Tom the lecture. 

 

They wander about this curious world for a bit, Leon refusing to let Tom tell him where, exactly, the are. Part of the game is figuring it out himself. Newspapers are cheating, so he examines the people around them and the city passing them by. 

 

Wherever Tom is leading them is the same place everyone else is going, so there’s ample opportunity to study the inhabitants of this place. 

 

_ Definitely Asia,  _ Leon confirms as he looks around, squinting at the street signs and storefronts. He curses himself for not studying Eastern Asian written languages in further depth. He’s spent too long on Eastern Europe, and he’s more behind than he would like. From the clothing he wants to say early twenty-first century; the lack of smartphones would confirm this hypothesis. But still, none of this is definitive. 

 

Leon’s brow furrows. But perhaps, he’s thinking about this equation the wrong way. 

 

“Do you want any hints?”

 

_ “No.”  _ Leon says, vehemently. 

 

Tom smiles out at the crowds. “You’re sure?”

 

Leon doesn’t even deign this with a response. “Do I need to get it down to the city?”

 

“If you want. Country is fine. At least within a quarter of a century.”

 

Leon purses his lips. Then his eyes widen. Instead of taking in the world around them, he scrutinizes Tom instead. Tom turns to him with a curiously raised brow. Leon just stares at him deeply. 

 

“What?” The older boy blinks. “Is there something on my face?”

 

“Japan— most likely Tokyo. Early twenty-first century. 2008, would be my guess.”

 

Tom looks unwillingly impressed. “Alright, humor me. How did you come up with that?”

 

Leon grins widely. “Easy. I know you’ve been in the same place for the last six months. This Christmas, you gave Harry a kimono to add to her collection, and you always get her gifts from wherever you currently are, so you’ve obviously been somewhere in Japan. And you always travel near whatever Harry’s current year is, but never beyond it. And no one has smartphones around us, so it can’t be  _ too  _ close— but they do have phones still.”

 

“So since your surroundings were too foreign to guess, you used your knowledge of me instead.”

 

Leon smiles at him and nods, as shuffles in closer to Tom’s side as a gust of wind passes them by, holding his hand so he doesn’t get lost in the crowd. 

 

“You’ve never taken me outside of Europe or America before.” Leon confides, quietly, squeezing his hand. 

 

Tom squeezes back. “I’ve never taken you this far into the future either, have I?” Tom muses aloud. 

 

“I’ve been with Harry before.” Leon sniffs. “It’s not like I’ve never seen it.”

 

Tom snorts. “For what? Paperwork? That hardly counts.”

 

Leon just shrugs. 

 

He wonders, sometimes, if he’ll ever get to do this too. Harry and Tom make traveling through space and time look so  _ easy.  _ It’s as natural to them as breathing. Tom swears up and down it wasn’t always like that, that there was a time when he found it just as impossible and awe-inspiring as Leon does now. He always says it’s never as fun as Leon thinks it is— that it’s a lot of responsibility, a lot of work, and nothing to be scoffed at. All the same that’s never stopped him from whisking Leon away to all sorts of adventures Harry greatly disapproves of. 

 

Maybe one day, he and Tom can go on adventures for real, like the ones Tom tells him about as bedtime stories; regaling him of tales of gallantry and danger, rescuing lost princesses and retrieving stolen treasure. He’s fairly sure Tom embellishes them quite a bit to make them more interesting, but yet he has a magical jade hairpin that was most definitely given to him by some kind of princess, and a mystical trinket made of mother of pearl. 

 

When he finally looks up, he sees they’ve stopped at some kind of shrine.

 

He looks to Tom. “Where are we?”

 

“It’s New Year’s Day.” Tom confides, without answering. “It’s customary to visit a Shinto shrine for the first day of the year.”

 

Leon looks up at him skeptically. “It is?”

 

“Sure. It’s called  _ hatsumode.  _ It’s pretty easy— I’ll show you.”

 

Leon follows along gamely as they move off to the side where other people are washing their hands in a fountain, thrilled to try something new. Tom doesn’t follow him up into the line to offer prayers though, causing him to turn around curiously. 

 

“Go on,” he says with a smile. 

 

“You’re not coming?”

 

He makes a vague wave over his shoulder. “He doesn’t really like the idea of me receiving blessings of other gods, you know?”

 

Leon’s eyes flitter to the space of air above him, as if he could possibly see the god that protects his older brother. There’s nothing but the crystalline sky. Somehow, that's even more ominous; knowing that something is there but he just can't see it. 

 

After he returns to Tom’s side, the older boy procures a little pouch that he ties to the lapel of Leon’s jacket. Leon looks at it curiously. “What is it?” 

 

“An  _ omamori—  _ this one wards off evil.”

 

“I thought you said your god doesn’t like you taking the gifts of other gods?”

 

“Well it’s not for me, now is it?” 

 

Tom ruffles his hair. “Now for the fun part. What do you want to eat? There’s lots of choices.”

 

Leon eats so much he thinks he might need to be rolled home. As it is that doesn’t stop him from a chocolate covered banana or an entire _taiyaki_. Tom tries a few times to get him to slow down, but ultimately gives up after Leon gets yet another stick of fried squid. 

 

“Where do you even put all that?” Tom asks, exasperated.

 

Leon merely grins widely, tearing off another piece of squid. 

 

“I guess you are a growing kid.” Tom supposes aloud. “But don’t come crying to me when you get a stomach ate.”

 

Leon nods agreeably. “Sure. Say, could we go get cotton candy next?”

 

Tom narrows his eyes. “You better be joking.” 

 

Leon just laughs, delighted. Teasing Tom is always a lot of fun. He’s about to make good on his request, when he spies movement in the corner of his eye. 

 

“Fish!” He says, delighted, as he forgets all about his culinary adventures in favor of a small wooden pool of goldfish. 

 

“Oi,” Tom calls, annoyed, “don’t get lost now. Do I have to get you a backpack leash?”

 

“A pokemon one is okay.” Leon chimes back without missing a beat, eyes still fixated on the fish. 

 

Tom wanders over to his side, giving a loud sigh. “You and your damn fish…” But then again, Leon has had an obsession with fish since he was a small infant. It was probably naive to assume it would go away with age. 

 

“Can we get one?” Leon looks up at him with his dazzling smile. He’s a master manipulator and not even a teenager yet, Tom thinks, horrified. He’s created a monster. 

 

“Fine, fine. Do you even know how to do this?” He relents with a sigh, digging out his wallet. 

 

Leon shakes his head, grinning. “It can’t be that hard, right?”

 

Despite inheriting most of Harry’s athleticism on a broom and all of Gellert’s inherent grace, not to mention years of emulating Tom’s mannerisms, Leon is surprisingly clumsy. That could just be the curse of his age though— Tom remembers moving adolescent limbs to be such a trying endeavor. Not to mention, this game is deceptively difficult. Move to slow, and the fish will swim out of the way. Move too quick and you risk breaking the rice paper. 

 

After multiple tries, Leon is starting to look disheartened. Ever since he was born Tom has been anything but immune to that look. In fact, it gets him every time.

 

“Alright, move over.” The young man says, resigned. Leon obliges happily, snuggling against his arm. “Which one do you want?”

 

“That one!” Leon points to a black, googly-eyed thing with big fins. 

 

Tom takes aim, and then launches it out of the water. 

 

“Wow!” Leon looks down at their bucket, where the terrified fish appears dazed. “How’d you do that?”

 

“It’s just physics.” Tom says with a smirk, as he lines up another one. 

 

By the end of it, he’ll admit he may have gotten carried away. Harry will not be pleased to find five new additions to their family, but there’s a good chance Spot might just eat them while they’re this small, and it’s not as if they don’t have the room. And anyway, isn’t that what a backyard pond is for? Accidentally procured festival fish? 

 

Leon is giggly and in bright spirits as they amble around the shrine grounds, fish in tow. He keeps making faces at them in hopes one will make a face back. Leon is so easy to please, Tom thinks with a fond smile. Take him to the lake or the aquarium and he’ll be thrilled for days. 

 

He looks at the orange sky, sun setting between the tall metal hands of skyscrapers. He wonders if Harry and Gellert have even noticed their gone. Probably, but she hasn’t gone hunting for them yet and that’s as much of an approval as Tom is probably going to get. Harry is always lecturing him about getting impatient with Leon, and maybe she’s right. It’s not fair to have such high expectations of him, even though Tom has been waiting what feels like his whole life for Leon to finally grow up and join him. But it’s not as if he took him to Angkor Wat to try to wrestle down wrathful ancient Hindu gods. A simple afternoon celebrating  _ hatsumode  _ is a perfectly age appropriate adventure, and he’ll argue his case to hell and back if he has to. 

 

Leon gives a wide yawn by his side, pulling him away from his thoughts.

 

“Tired?”

 

“I don’t want to go home yet.” Leon insists. 

 

“Fair enough.” Tom agrees. “If you even have room in that stomach of yours, we could go for dinner.”

 

Leon pulls a face. 

 

“I take it that’s a no?” Tom teases, grinning. 

 

“Just give me a few minutes.” Leon insists. “You are vastly underestimating my appetite.”

 

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson on that.” Tom returns drily, but acquiesces nonetheless, taking them down the shrine steps to walk around the city for a bit. 

 

Leon chatters to his new fish friends, in the same manner he does Spot, as if he expects the fish to talk back to him. He wouldn’t put it past the boy to one day invent a way to do so. He asks Tom about the local language, and manages to get quite a bit of it down by the time the sun has set and Leon’s appetite has well and truly returned. Leon’s mind is such a fascinating thing— absolutely wasted on Hogwarts, in Tom’s opinion. Leon is too good for that school, although if Tom is being honest he thinks Leon is too good for all schools. Leon should just apprentice with him, and spend his formative years traversing the four corners of the world because no school grounds or country borders could possibly ever contain his genius. For all Leon despairs over never being able to do what Tom and Harry do, Tom doesn’t think even the laws of physics will slow Leon down for long. 

 

The sun has well and truly set by the time they stop for  _ katsudon.  _ Leon is so proficient by now he can order by himself, and has memorized at least two of the three written languages. Tom has noticed Leon is always a quick study, but he’s far faster when thrown into an environment as opposed to learning from a textbook. Yet another reason he should be out with Tom exploring the world. 

 

_ Try getting Harry to agree to that though,  _ he thinks, with familiar frustration. 

 

“Hey, Tom,” Leon murmurs quietly, as he picks at his rice.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Leon doesn’t look at him, studiously examining his food. “Can’t I just stay with you forever?”

 

Tom sighs. “Leon…”

 

“No, really, I’ve been thinking,” Leon protests immediately, staring up at him with his familiar and bewitching green eyes. “And I just, I dunno. I like Hogwarts and all, but the classes are a bit boring and the people are okay I guess, and the teachers are so…

 

“What about the teachers?” Tom asks, alarmed. “Dumbledore hasn’t said anything to you, has he?”

 

Leon blinks at him. “Huh?” 

 

“Has he?” Tom repeats, urgently.

 

“No?” Leon frowns. “He doesn’t even talk to me. He won’t even look at me, and he never calls on me when I raise my hand in class. I think he doesn’t like me.”

 

Tom purses his lips. That’s not good, but it’s infinitely better than most of the scenarios Tom had gotten in his head. He would have expected the Professor to say something in that pretentious and high-handed manner he usually does, but then again Dumbledore has always been a coward when it comes to Gellert. 

 

“Oh,” He replies, relieved. “Well then, what is it? You don’t like them? Your professors, I mean.”

 

Leon shrugs half-heartedly. “They’re okay I guess. Professor Slughorn is  _ so  _ overbearing and he never shuts up about you, but he’s alright for a head of house, I suppose.” 

 

“But you don’t feel challenged.”

 

Leon shakes his head vehemently. 

 

“And you’re bored.”

 

His nod in response is emphatic. 

 

Tom sighs gustily. He’d expected as much. “It was the same for me, you know.” He confides, gently. “But you just have to be patient.”

 

“For six more years?” Leon gasps, horrified. 

 

Tom scratches his cheek. Well, when he puts it like that… 

 

“I’ll talk to Harry.” He says, defeated. Leon’s eyes light up. “But I truly make no promises.”

 

Leon latches on to him, burying his smile into Tom’s sleeve. “Thanks Tom!”

 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Tom ruffles his soft, lemon colored hair. “This could all backfire spectacularly and then Harry will never let me take you anywhere again.”

 

Leon just peers up at him with an impish grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk her out of it.”

 

“Somehow, I have no trouble believing that.” 

 

//

 

Harry holds out her hand when they arrive home, Tom carrying a sleeping Leon in his arms. 

 

He sets the boy down, fish and all, on the couch beside Spot. Spot’s eyes light up at the sight of the frightened fish; Tom taps his nose in warning to leave them alone. Then he straightens up and turns to Harry, who is watching him with a raised brow, hand still outstretched. Tom rolls his eyes, and procures another  _ omomori.  _

 

Harry is surprised by it, clearly not expecting this. She holds it up curiously. “An  _ omomori _ ?” 

 

“An  _ en-musubi. _ ” Tom nods solemnly. “For luck with love. I figured you’d need that.” 

 

“...Are you trying to die right now?”

 

“I’m kidding.” He replies, cheekily. “It’s a  _ kotsu-anzen.  _ Safe travels.”

 

Harry looks at it skeptically, but seems to take that at face value, tucking the charm into her pocket as she gives him an expectant look. “Well?”

 

Tom just shakes his head, procuring a bottomless bag from inside his jacket. What he first pulls out is something that she’s clearly also not expecting, as her arms fall to her sides and she blinks in surprise. He holds out the beautiful obi to take; it shimmers black and gold in the dim evening light, embroidered fans stitched into the silk. After that he takes out what she had been expecting all along; a box of famous chocolates. 

 

“You’re buttering me up,” she observes coolly, as she takes the gifts. “What is it?”

 

“I was trying to spare myself the lecture over stealing Leon away.”

 

Harry shrugs, tucking a vermillion curl behind her ear as she carefully folds her new obi, finely wrapped box of chocolates set atop it in her arms. “It was good enough timing.” She says by way of answer. “Not to mention, Tokyo is fine. Tokyo is one of the safest cities. It’s not the same as you, I don’t know, taking him to get chased by a Nordic frost troll.”

 

“That was one time,” Tom retorts, exasperated. “And I was perfectly in control of that situation.”

 

Harry rolls her eyes, hard. “Right. Sure. And the ghost pirates in the Aegean Sea?”

 

“Purely accidental. Won’t happen again.” 

 

Harry seems to have a lecture in the works, but with an irritated twitch of her brow seems to think better of it. 

 

“Right, well,” she lets out a long breath then, all but collapsing into the chair beside Leon’s sleeping form. “Thanks for getting him out of the house.”

 

“Always,” Tom murmurs in response, trailing his fingertips across the boy’s floating winter wheat curls. His hand trails down to the talisman lying in the folds of his scarf. The warm tingle of another god’s power is a warning lick against his touch, and he pulls his hand away. 

 

Harry watches the rise and fall of the boy’s chest, wondering when the hell he managed to get so big. With his bottomless stomach it’s no surprise, but she can so easily remember a time when Spot could all but swallow him whole. He’s grown up so much—  _ too  _ much. Not even Hogwarts is enough for him. A part of her is saddened at the thought, but the rest of her is unsurprised. He’ll be taller than her soon enough, if Gellert’s height is anything to go by. She’ll be the shortest in this family by a long shot, she thinks when she considers how tall Tom has gotten as well. He’ll outgrow all his new clothes as he already has his first year lessons, faster than she’s prepared for. 

 

“How is he?” She asks, quietly.

 

“Bored out of his mind.” Tom replies, without missing a beat. 

 

Harry rubs her temples. “I know what you’re going to ask— 

 

“I told him I’d at least relay his message, but not to get his hopes up.” Tom interrupts, droll. 

 

“And I just— I get where you’re coming from. But I also want him to at least… for some small part of his life… know what it’s like to be normal, you know?”

 

“He’s never been destined for normal.” Tom points out, gently. 

 

“No,” she sighs heavily. “No, he hasn’t.” 

 

It’s quiet aside from the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of Leon’s chest, and the occasional slither of Spot’s tongue as he flicks it out towards the fish in interest. 

 

“But it’s one thing to accept that you’ll never be normal. It’s entirely another to not even acknowledge or understand it’s existence.” 

 

Tom just shrugs. He understands the sentiment, and begrudgingly agrees with it for the most part. All the same in practice it’s mind-numbingly boring, especially for a prodigy of Leon’s standards. 

 

“Just for the summer, then.”

 

Harry drags her eyes away from her son. “For the summer what?”

 

“We’ll stick to safe places.” Tom swears. “You can pre-approve the list if you like. Purely theoretical research. No spelunking caves or wandering through dangerous jungles.”

 

Harry does not appear convinced.

 

“It’ll be a great cultural experience.” He adds. 

 

Her look is still wholly unimpressed. 

 

“I did the same when I was his age, did I not?”

 

Somehow, this is what causes her to smile. “Yes, and look how you turned out.” She says in a way that should be disparaging, but her smile is full of warmth, and her eyes are sparkling with so much fondness he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

 

Tom smiles self-deprecatingly. “A wandering vagabond who refuses home ownership?”

 

“An extremely accomplished and knowledgeable sorcerer who is worldly and wise beyond his years.” Harry beams up at him with a silly grin. “Who also, perhaps, is too curious for his own good.”

 

Tom looks away, a high flush rising on his cheeks. “Now  _ you’re  _ buttering me up. If you’re going to tell me no, just say so.”

 

“I’m not saying no.” Harry replies, smoothly. “But Leon has school assignments and I would like to do a few family events that will require both of you to be on the continent. So perhaps not the  _ entire  _ summer.”

 

Leon could complete his school assignments at a speed that would make Hermione weep and they both know that, but all the same Harry stands by her decision. “Come back at least every two weeks, so I can feed you both properly and make sure you haven’t given him another god awful haircut.”

 

“He  _ wanted  _ the padawan braid.” Tom rolls his eyes. This is an avenue not conducive to getting Harry’s approval to take Leon traveling, however, as Harry had been disproportionately devastated over the event, so Tom quick steamrolls over the subject. “But yes, we will absolutely come back every two weeks. Right on the dot. Nowhere dangerous. Nowhere not already pre-approved. And nothing but theoretical magics. No spellcasting.” 

 

Harry leans back in her chair. “Fine, then.”

 

Tom blinks. “That’s it?” Who knew one expensive  _ obi  _ was all it took to get Harry to agree to all his demands as if he was Leon with his big, wet green eyes? He was sure he’d have to get the boy to pull out some tears at some point to get this plan to work. 

 

“Well, I was younger than you were when we first met.” Harry reminds him with a wry smile. “It would be rather hypocritical of me to find you too young for the responsibility of caring after a small child. That being said, if you think it’ll be easy, just remember yourself at that age.”

 

Tom doesn’t even bother to hide his grimace. Harry laughs at his expression. 

 

His look turns serious after a moment. “I’ll look after him.” He swears, gravely. 

 

“Of course you will.” She agrees promptly, smile widening. “You always do.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
